"Go away, Mycroft," Sherlock demanded, without taking his eyes from the cells under his microscope as he analyzed her lipstick. "I'm much too busy for whatever matter of national importance brought you to my door."
After she slipped through his fingers Sherlock had continued his trip to the hospital only to come back with the same results he left with. Inconclusive. Not even the computers could determine what the alloy was, which meant it was something no one had ever seen before and the last thing he wanted was for Mycroft to get wind of that. His brother would spare no expense to hunt her down and that was something Sherlock wouldn't allow.
"I'm sure you're quite busy with your little case, Sherlock, but this is much more important," Mycroft said.
"Important to you, you mean."
"I've recently signed a deal with PrimeTech," Sherlock paused, making sure to keep his eyes focused through the lenses so his brother wouldn't take note of his features. "It's a local company, very new, technology based."
"And you want me to run a background. Boring," he dismissed, knowing that's not what Mycroft was asking, but he couldn't let his brother know he knew anything about them.
"I've got my own people for that, Sherlock."
"And?"
"The company's background is clean as is the background of their founder, Trevor Lindquest."
"Then why are we having this conversation?"
"I believe he's hiding something from me. Something to do with his company."
Sherlock monitored himself. Making sure he didn't show any signs of a reaction. Mycroft was suspicious and that wasn't good.
"If you're so worried about it then why don't you check into it or is it the knee again?" Sherlock remarked, knowing if he agreed right away his brother would be suspicious of his motives, possibly find out he'd visited the company, which would endanger her friend, and, what's more, it would endanger her. He couldn't have that.
"You know I don't do leg work."
"I think they make creams for that," he replied, finally looking at his brother.
Mycroft shot Sherlock a disdainful glance.
"Droll."
"Any ideas?"
"They've made leaps in technology, but I've accounted for all their employees and none of them have the intelligence to account for the strides they've made."
"You believe they're stealing information."
"The thought has arisen."
"I'll look into it when I've more time," Sherlock said, busying himself with the microscope.
"Yes. Right," Mycroft said, walking toward the door. "You'll let me know?"
"Yes, yes, now go away," Sherlock replied, shooing his brother off.
He heard the door open and then close. Only then releasing a sigh. Mycroft was suspicious and that was very bad news for anyone on his brother's radar, which unfortunately was one of her friends. There was only one thing he could do.
As Rose hung the gown in her closet she couldn't help smiling as she thought about Sherlock rushing back into that dressing room to find it empty. TROUBLE. Yes, he was trouble, using her transporter was trouble, but she didn't have a choice. Now, he'd have suspicions that her mystery ran deeper than he first thought, which was a whole other bag of trouble.
She walked into the kitchen to make herself a cuppa, trying not to think about Sherlock, which was nearly impossible. She knew if she closed her eyes she would still be able to feel his finger trace her scar. A scar she'd received after being burned by that laser, not once, but multiple times by a man who wanted to know what the dimension cannon was and how to use it. A man Mycroft reminded her of. He had that same air about him, the same feel.
She forced those memories away, back into that room. She didn't like thinking about that, about what happened in that universe. She wasn't afraid of Mycroft, she'd never been that person. She was wary, there was a difference.
"Why are you doing this?" Trevor asked.
Sherlock Holmes had burst into his office, informed him of Mycroft's suspicions and then not only offered a solution, but had put it in motion. Trevor heard all the stories about the man, knew that people considered the detective to be a psychopath. He didn't trust one word out of the man's mouth, especially after Rose told him she'd piqued Sherlock's interest.
Sherlock could tell Mr. Lindquest didn't trust his intentions. He knew the only way to make the man go along with the plan was to make him think there was another motivation.
"For two reasons. I know what you're hiding and I know he isn't dangerous," Sherlock said, noting the way Mr. Lindquest's eyes widened. "And I find besting my brother quite enjoyable."
Rose wouldn't have told the detective about Jax. So, he must have worked it out on his own or he was guessing. Trevor wasn't sure he believed the man wanted to help just to beat his brother at something. What else was there? Rose. Was this man interested in her? Well, she was much too good for the likes of him.
"And I'm sure you'll want me to make sure everyone knows about this," Trevor said, eyeing the man.
Sherlock gazed at Mr. Lindquest. He knew exactly what the man was referring to. If this suit and sandal wearing idiot thought he stood a chance with someone as Clever as her then he was more of an idiot than Sherlock deduced and that was saying something.
"Actually, I would prefer if you didn't tell her," he replied, choosing not to dance around the subject.
"You don't want her to know?" Mr. Lindquest asked, dropping the pretense.
Instead of answering Sherlock turned around and headed out of the office. He'd give it another day or so before telling Mycroft about his discovery. That the company wasn't stealing secrets, they were farming their work out and chose not to include that detail because of the person's sordid past. Someone who owed the detective a favor.
He headed back to his flat. The acid he used on the safe should've eaten its way through by now. He couldn't wait to find out what clues were hidden inside.
Rose rewound the camera footage on the empty building. In another universe it was a fish and chip shop. One she frequented with Mickey. In this one it appeared to have been some kind of deli before it went out of business. She couldn't find one image of Sherlock. He wasn't skulking outside as he had at the bank.
She knew he was clever and persistent enough to get into the safe. Maybe after she vanished from the changing room he realized he wasn't going to be able to get the drop on her. She'd been looking forward to teasing him again, but maybe it was just as well after that run in they had.
She'd lost control. She knew that. If it hadn't been for their interruption…she pulled back the smile that wanted to form. No, it was bad, there was nothing good about losing control, especially with him. The game was fun, but reality was dangerous. There were too many people who counted on her, too many responsibilities to allow herself to fall.
She could leave the clues and then text him from her other phone. The one that always came up blocked. She bought that back in Norway. She picked up the puzzle box, it was light, about the size of a jack-in-the-box. Jax manufactured it for her. It was puzzle of intellect. In order to open it you had to pull out the pieces a certain way. It was far more complex than any Earth puzzle box and, even with Sherlock's intellect, she wouldn't be surprised if it took him a good three hours to figure it out. She grinned. Inside he'd find his latest clues.
She punched the location into her teleporter and in the next moment she was standing just inside the building's back door. She started down the dark hall and entered the front of the business. Then she walked over to the counter and sat the puzzle box down, but before she could pull out her phone to text Sherlock she was stopped by the sound of his voice.
"Hello, Ms. Prentice. So good of you to join me," he said.
Oh, bollocks!
How the hell did he get inside the building without the cameras picking him up? She turned around and found him skulking in the shadowy corner by the entryway. He couldn't have seen her appearance from his vantage point. Good. She almost sighed, but held it back, pulling out a smile instead.
"Been waiting long?" she asked.
Sherlock had, in fact, been there for little over two hours. Taking the rooftop route this time to avoid her cameras. He entered through there and had been waiting in the front with a view of the only two entrances to this room. He heard the zapping accompanied by a flash of light and the scent of ozone in the air, but he didn't actually see her arrival. He didn't hear a single door open or close either. Her ability to get in and out of places without his knowledge was driving him mad.
After her sudden exit from the changing room he'd spent nearly an hour going over every inch of that room, much to the chagrin of the sales staff, but he had to know. How she escaped. The vent was far too small and that being the only other opening his mind was unable to deduce an answer. The three things that accompanied her appearances and disappearances – the sound, the flash of light, and the scent of ozone – couldn't be added up to reveal an answer.
"Not too long," he said, stepping out of the shadows and crossing the room toward her.
She wore a different disguise. Not the socialite or the personal assistant. Black trousers, trainers, and a pink tank top. His eyes kept traveling to her top, noting the way it was cut lower than anything she'd wore, outside of that gown. That's when he realized that this wasn't a disguise. This was her. The realization gave him an almost intimate feeling. That she stood before him, revealed. The woman beneath the many disguises.
His hand twitched as he felt his control slipping at the idea. His body wanting to reach for her. He clasped his hands behind his back, forcing himself to keep control, keep the upper hand.
He was determined to have her this time. There was no way for her to escape. He returned the smile she wore as he stopped in front of her, close enough to leave her in easy reach if she tried to escape.
"You've come quite far for a shop girl," he said.
She could've sworn she heard a bit of admiration in his tone and it made her grin. She noticed the way he positioned himself. Keeping her within reach. He wasn't planning on letting her get away this time, but if it came down to it she could teleport in front of him, not what she wanted to do, but she could do.
"Farther than you could imagine," she replied in that teasing way, as she tried to work out an escape plan.
He could see calculations going on behind her eyes as she glanced around the room, but not in an obvious way. The back hall, her point of entry, the ceiling, there were two vents, the walls, the only windows behind her as well as the front entrance. She was trying to work out an escape, but he wasn't going to let her get away this time. She was Very Clever. His hand twitched, but he forced the thoughts aside before he acted on them. An instinct that became stronger each time the met and he knew if these meetings persisted his control would slip and he'd be unable to stop himself, but for now he had control. He needed to use that to make her slip, to capture her.
"You may find my imagination to be quite vast," he said, gazing directly into her eyes.
"How vast?" she asked, stepping closer, a plan that would allow her escape having formed.
She could see his slips. See that his control was barely held in place, as was hers, but she had to gain the upper hand. Throw him off if her plan was going to work.
"Quite," he replied, his voice having dropped an octave, sending a shiver coursing through her, but she kept herself in control…barely.
She reached for one of the lapel on his jacket, under his open coat and ran her hand down it, closing the last few inches between them and heard his breath catch. Oh, yes, she was definitely in control. She pulled out her cheeky grin and watched that last bit of control waver behind his intense eyes.
"And how exactly," she began, holding his gaze as her hand trailed up his lapel until it stopped at the base of his neck, "would we test that?"
The last bit of his control snapped as twenty-four immediate ideas came to mind. He reached for her and that's when he realized she'd done it again. She stepped out of reach before he recovered. She was good. He caught her gaze, a grin surfacing as twenty-four ideas became thirty-eight. He hadn't counted on the handcuffs.
"How many pairs of handcuffs do you own?" he asked.
"Oh, I have quite a vast supply," she replied with that cheeky grin and that feeling of madness she elicited in him nearly overwhelmed him.
She was interesting, intriguing, and she drove him to distraction, but she was also the most Clever woman he'd ever met. She couldn't get away forever.
"Is this goodnight then?" he asked.
"Goodnight Sherlock," she replied before turning and walking out the front door.
"Until the next time," he called, before the door closed on her exit.
Oh, yes, he would definitely see her again. He grinned as he pulled out his lock picks and opened the cuffs, slipping them into his pocket before picking up the puzzle box she left behind. He turned it over in his hands. It was unlike any he'd ever seen, like her, it promised to be quite challenging.
Standard Disclaimer.
Thank you to all my brilliant readers!
Reviews are always welcome. :)